


Amazing Sometimes

by anastasiapullingteeth



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Fuckbuddies, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:24:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastasiapullingteeth/pseuds/anastasiapullingteeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Grantaire lends Jehan his jacket when the fire alarm in their apartment complex goes off at three in the morning, the artist begins a close friendship with the poet that soon escalates into something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Meeni, 'cause I promised zir porn like ages ago (but there's plot in this one).

The day Grantaire moved into this apartment complex, none of his friends was there to help him. Well, he wasn’t completely honest; Bossuet had helped him carry the couch over the three stories up to his apartment, threw it outside his door and ran downstairs between yelled apologies. But now was him against this pile of boxes and disassembled furniture. All by himself.

The apartment wasn't really big: a small living room, a bedroom with a tiny bathroom and a kitchenette. Everything was painted in light blue and white, making it look more like a dentist waiting room than a house, but it was home. Or it’ll be, as soon as everything was at their place. He opened the box closest to him and knelt on the hard wood of the floor.

It was nearly two in the morning when the apartment was habitable enough for him to take a rest. There were still a few boxes in the living room, but those could wait. He flopped down on the bed with his clothes on, his boots leaving traces of dirt on the sheets that he didn’t care about at the moment; he was really exhausted. So, when the fire alarm went off nearly an hour later, Grantaire seriously considered how bad it could be if he stayed in bed and let the flames to consume him. It was a stupid thought, obviously, so he rose up from the mattress with a pained moan and walked to the apartment door, grabbing his jacket on his way out.

The neighbors walked quickly in the hallway, they all in their pajamas, looking at each other with matching expressions of tiredness and annoyance. Neither of them seemed happy to leave the comfort of their beds, and Grantaire couldn’t agree more. An old lady came out of the door next to Grantaire’s, wrapped in a fluffy pink coat and looking around her with wide eyes, probably searching for smoke or any other sign of where the fire could come from. When they reached the stairs, though, her steps became clumsy and slow, the years she carried on her shoulders weighing on every step. Grantaire walked up to her and took his elbow gently.

"Thank you, dear", she said. Grantaire felt her trembling with the chill air of autumn when they step on the street.

The firefighters didn’t take long to arrive, but still they informed them that it’d take a while until they could go back to their apartments. Grantaire retracted himself to the opposite side of the street, sat down on the sidewalk and rummaged inside the pockets of his jacket, looking for the newly open pack of cigarettes he’d bought that morning, suppressing a squeak when he found it. He sucked on the cigarette, his head thrown back on the lamp post and his eyes closed. He must have fallen asleep somewhere between the last suck, judging by the steady shake someone was giving to his shoulder.

He opened one eye and look up at the small man bend over him. "Oh, sorry." he mumbled. “But your cigarette was almost touching your leg. I thought it was dangerous and I would've taken it off of your hand, but that seemed impolite.”

"Uh? Oh, yeah, thanks."

"You’re the new neighbor, aren't you? I saw you on my way to work this morning."  
  
“Yeah, I’m Grantaire.”

"Jean. Nice to meet you" he said, shaking his hand. "Do you mind if I wait up here?"

Grantaire shook his head and saw him sit down next to him on the sidewalk; he offered his cigar, but Jean didn’t accept it. His strawberry blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun and his brown eyes were narrowed with tiredness. He moved his feet rhythmically, orange puffy flips tapping on the concrete and skinny arms wrapped around himself; it was until then that Grantaire noticed he was wearing only a long sleeve shirt that in no way was warm enough for the weather, he’d be freezing.

Grantaire shrugged off his own jacket and let it slide over Jean’s shoulders. “What you doing?” he asked surprised.

"Trying to warm you up. You’re trembling, dude. It’s way too cold outside here."

"You’ll freeze."

"No, I won’t." He smiled at him, pulling at the cardigan he’d been wearing under the jacket. "Seriously, keep it. Your nose looks like it’s about to fall off of your face" he added, when he saw Jean trying to give the jacket back.

"Thank you." Jean curled up on himself a little, covering his mouth and nose with the jacket and Grantaire pretended he didn’t see him breathe in deeply.

They stayed outside on the cold for God knew how long before the firefighters told them it was safe to go back inside. Apparently the alarm had activated by accident, but they still had to check the entire building to be sure everything was okay. Grantaire helped the old lady back upstairs, ignoring the amused smile Jean thrown his way. When he stopped outside his apartment, turned around to face the smaller man.

"So, this is me. But you already knew that."

"Yes. Mine’s on the fifth floor, by the way. Do you wanna come over? I can make you tea."

It was tempting, but he barely could keep his eyes open and he had to work tomorrow morning. “Some other time.” Jean nodded, though he looked a little disappointed. When he started to take the jacket off, Grantaire stretched his arm, placing a hand on top of Jean’s over his chest. Grantaire felt a shudder running down his spine.

"Yeah, uh." he mumbled, withdrawing his hand quickly. "Keep it. You can give it back later."

"Okay, thanks. So, see you tomorrow, then. Good night, Grantaire."

"Good night."

He could sleep around two hours if he went to bed in that moment. He’d have to bath in coffee to stay awake during his shift the next day.

 

***

 

Grantaire poured some more black coffee in the thermos Musichetta had given to him and took his keys from the table next to the door. He was almost out of the building when he saw Jean a few steps away from him. His long hair was braided neatly, falling over his right shoulder, blue sweater matching tight, purple pants. It was a sight to behold, especially after the young man looked above his shoulder, probably sensing Grantaire's gaze. He smiled at him and then facepalmed himself hard enough to make Grantaire wince emphatically.

"Your jacket! I knew I'd forgotten something."

Grantaire laughed, approaching Jean and holding his arm to make him keep walking when he tried to go back up the stairs. "Don't worry, pal. I won't hunt you down for it." He walked beside him on the road, his hands ducked in the pockets of his jeans.

"Maybe you should, my memory isn't that good…" Jean said, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater to cover his hands from the crisp air.

They walked in silence for a few minutes longer. It wasn't uncomfortable, there was nothing that needed to be said, anyway. Jean stopped walking and Grantaire followed. They'd reached the bus stop and he decided to keep Jean company. Grantaire had to cross the street to take his own bus, his path was on the opposite direction, and he didn't have much time to get to work, but he owed it to him; the guy had saved his leg of an awful burn, hadn't he?

"That's my bus," Jean said with a smile. "So, uh, maybe I'll drop by your flat this afternoon? So I can give you your jacket back… and maybe talk or something? I- if you’re not busy…" he trailed off as his bus approached them.

Grantaire wasn't sure if he'd actually seen Jean blushing or not, so he didn't comment on in. "Sure, that be awesome."

He waved Jean goodbye and headed to the opposite bus stop to get to work; if he was lucky, he'd make it on time.

But Jean didn't make it to his flat that afternoon as he’d promised and Grantaire didn't get to see him until two days later, right when he was getting on the the bus, missing his chance to talk to him again. He didn't mind the jacket and, until that first day at his apartment, he’d never tried to make a bond with a neighbor, but the little guy seemed interesting and it was easy to chat with him, so he was thinking of making an exception.

The destiny - if it really existed - was apparently against it, as he proved it that Saturday when he saw a folded piece of paper that had been slipped under the front door of his apartment, with his name written on it. It was from Jean, as he'd signed on the bottom, right corner, and it said:

 

_I meant to give your jacket back but you weren't home. You are the only one to blame if I forget about it again._

_Jean~_

 

Grantaire smiled sideways. He'd left the workshop late in the afternoon after a double shift and then had gone for a drink with Éponine; it was a shame Jean had chosen that precise day to come over. He shrugged off the worn, black hoodie and threw it onto the couch, then flopped down on his bed.

He'd have to ask Jean's number… Just in case he wanted to visit him anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It starts a little bit lame but next chapters are longer/better, I promise.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now it really begins... sort of.

Jean appeared on his doorstep the next week, holding his jacket in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. Grantaire thought it was really cute, but he didn't know him enough to say so at loud; they hadn't reached that level yet. Instead, he made him come in and heated some water on the stove. Jehan sat down on the couch, trying -and failing miserably- to hide his curious gaze around Grantaire's apartment.

"What d'ya think?" Grantaire asked, handing him a mug.

"Pretty. Though the color is a little bit… depressing, if you ask me."

"Ah, I know what you mean. I guess I'll just have to get used to it."

"Why? You're not planning on keep it like this, are you?"

"… Can we paint 'em?"

"Of course we can! As long as you buy everything yourself." Jean laughed at him. "I can help you, I painted mine lavender."

"Okay, thanks. I'll think about it."

Jean told him about the neighbors; the old lady that lived next to Grantaire and Marie, a little girl that sometimes gave Jean a flower to bride in his hair. Grantaire sat next to him on the couch, just listening all the while. Once Jean finished his coffee (Grantaire didn't had any tea), he went back to his apartment, making Grantaire promised he'd let him know if he needed help redecorating the place. Grantaire walked him outside and Jean kissed him goodnight on the cheek.

They saw each other every other morning on their way to work. Grantaire liked those days because the young man always made him smile in a few minutes and, after two months of living there, he'd discovered Jean's particular love for baking cookies; Grantaire went to work those days with a small bag of them in his pocket. They took different paths on the street, but Jean always kissed him on the cheek before waving goodbye. It was funny they were comfortable enough to do that, but he'd never seen Jean's apartment.

And speaking of, Grantaire was growing sick of the blue and white on the walls of his own place, so after weeks of battling with himself about the worth of moving the furniture again just to give the apartment a little bit of color, he accepted Jean's offer and bought buckets of paint, most of them in different shades of green, to paint the place. Monochromatic, he knew it, but it would look awesome.

They settled on a weekend, Jean wearing a denim overall -whose strap kept sliding down his shoulder- and Grantaire in jeans and an old, black shirt, and began to work. After the younger man learned Grantaire had studied art, he'd insisted he painted a mural on one of the walls of the living room, and Grantaire, despite the time it'd passed since he last had done it, compiled. He should start to worry of how easily he accepted whatever this guy said.

"Madame Simplice loves you, you know?" Jean said, scratching his cheek with his fingers covered in paint.

"The next door lady?"

"Yep. 'He's such a gentleman, Jehan. And so handsome'," he said in a high pitched tone and Grantaire laughed at loud, even if he was blushing a tiny bit, because of how inaccurate that statement was. "I agree, of course, but it was funny coming from her. I'm pretty sure you're her favorite."

Grantaire choked on his own spit at the time his blush deepened. Jean agreed. He thought he was handsome. He stayed silent, painting a long stripe of green on his bedroom wall, glancing at him over the corner of his eye. He was sure he couldn't look at him without blushing in a very, very long time.

"Aaaaaand… We're done!" Jean said, completely oblivious of Grantaire's embarrassment. "It'll dry soon, don't worry. Then we can rearrange the bed and everything else."

"Neat." Grantaire coughed.

"Wanna come upstairs and grab something to eat?"

Grantaire nodded, still avoiding Jean's eyes. He followed him to the fifth floor, adjusting the rebel strap for him while waiting until he opened the door. When Jean had said his apartment was lavender, Grantaire had imagined... something entirely different. There were words written on the walls, fragments of what Grantaire assumed were poems or song lyrics, and flowers, some on vessels on the floor, other painted on the wall.

"This is nice."

They ate sandwiches with the T.V. on as background sound to their chattering. They talked about everything; music, books, their friends, and by the time Grantaire caught up with the time, it was already too late to go back to his apartment and rearrange the furniture. He really did have a problem with that, why did he even have that many stuff anyway?

But Jean, as sweet and nice as he was, offered him to stay there, promising he would help him the next day. It was too tempting to say no, so he nodded and accepted the spare clothes Jean handed him, as he guided him to his own bed, where he could spend the night. Grantaire swallow hard because were they going to share the bed?

"I'll go sleep on the couch, okay? See you tomorrow." Jean said, smiling.

"Wait, no, we can share the bed, y'know? I won’t bite you." _Unless you ask me to_ , he thought and had to clench his fist to avoid smacking his forehead.

"If you're okay with it."

"I won't kick you out of your own bed after you helped me paint the apartment. Now, come over here, Jean." He sat down on the mattress, patting the spot next him.

Jean snorted and climbed next to him. He laid down facing him, and after a long inute, he said: "Jehan, call me Jehan. You earned it."

 

Grantaire woke up in the middle of the night, wrapped around Jehan, his chest moving against the small man’s back. He tried to move away, but Jehan huffed a sound that made him stop immediately. Grantaire shifted on the mattress and bit his lips to suppress a moan. He looked down and his eyes went wide in realization; he was hard, the bulge in his pants pressed against Jehan’s lower back.

"Oh my god!" he mumbled, covering his mouth with his free hand.

He felt his face hot and tried to withdraw from Jehan again with little success. “Mmmhh, no” he heard him babble before the younger man took hold of the arm around his waist, intertwining their fingers and shifting until he was completely flushed against Grantaire’s chest, unconsciously trapping his dick between them. Grantaire bit hard on the back of his hand.

Gathering all his strength, Grantaire freed his hand and pushed Jehan gently, jumping off of the bed at the first chance. He ran to the bathroom and locked the door, then stared at his reflection in the mirror, trying to calm his breathing.

What would he do? He couldn’t jerk off in his friend’s bathroom, especially when said friend was sleeping a few steps away. He sat down on the closed toilet, clenching his hand tightly around the sink and breathing deeply through the nose. He forced his mind to think of anything else that wasn’t Jehan’s ass against his dick and fought back the aching need to palm himself through the fabric of his borrowed sweatpants.

When he went back to bed, he laid down facing the opposite wall, leaving an incredible amount of space between them. It took him a while to go back to sleep; Jehan didn’t seem aware of his predicament the next morning.

 

***

 

"So… There's a new girl at work." Grantaire said a few days later, casually leaning on the back of the couch to look down at Jehan. He'd invited him for dinner and Grantaire had offered to do the dishes in return. Now the young man was reading on the couch, his back against the armrest and legs stretched before him, hair falling free over his shoulders covering his face.

"Is she pretty?" he asked, but didn't even raise his head.

Grantaire walked around the couch and sat down next to him, lifting Jehan's legs and placing them carefully on his lap, absently playing with the hem of his jeans; Jehan was barefoot, his colorful socks contrasting with the black of Grantaire's pants.

"Yeah, I guess so." He wasn't really sure why he was telling him this, but he needed advice? Yeah, maybe.

"Great. Ask her out."

"I can't do that. What if she doesn't like me? What if she isn't even into guys?"

"You'll never know if you don't ask." Jehan was still reading, judging by the movement of his eyes behind his glasses, so he didn't notice Grantaire's glare.

"I won't embarrass myself like that." Grantaire rested a hand on Jehan's calf and stayed silent for a minute, rubbing small circles with his thumb. "Maybe if I find a way to know if she's into me… Oh! Got an idea! Give me hickey!" he yelled enthusiastically, staring at Jehan's face.

He finally detached his eyes off of his book and cocked an eyebrow. "How's that gonna work? It won't like… do the opposite of what you want?"

"No! She'll get jealous! And I'll know if I have a chance."

"Or she'll think you're seeing someone else and keep her distance. Your plan's stupid."

"No, it's not. It's like, when you ask a friend to punch you to make it look like someone attacked you? Yeah, like that but with a love bite."

"That's stupid. Just. Ask. Her. Out."

"Come on, Jehan. Just one small hickey. Please?"

Jehan looked at him up and down, his eyebrows knitted together. Finally, he rolled his eyes and placed the book on the coffee table. "Fine." Grantaire smiled, watching him kneel on the couch with an elegant flip. He took his glasses off and bent above him and licked his lips. "Just one, okay?"

"More than enough. Thanks."

Jehan leaned closer and Grantaire couldn't help but closing his eyes. However, he opened them up again a second later when, instead of the pressure of soft lips against his skin, he felt a sharp pain on his neck, in a place that'd be impossible to cover unless he wore a scarf. "Ouch!" he complained, pouting at seeing Jehan laughing.

"D'you know you can get the same effect by pitching the skin with your fingers?" Jehan said, smirking.

"I don't think is dark enough, though…" Grantaire smiled. "Maybe you should try with your mouth this time."

He'd said it as sultry as he could. He was kind of forgetting the purpose of the whole thing, but he'd been thinking about ... things after he spent the night at Jehan's and now felt a strong need to know how it was to have Jehan's lips on his- his skin. For science. And he needed a black mark noticeable enough to catch everyone's attention, anyway, so he put a hesitant hand on Jehan's neck to encourage him to keep going.

The smaller man seemed to understand, since he bowed his neck and grazed his teeth over the sensitive skin then bit it, sucking on the flesh. Grantaire moaned deep down his throat and tangled his fingers in Jehan's hair, pulling at it unconsciously, reveling in the sound that Jehan made against his neck. He sucked again and Grantaire jerked his hips up lightly; he was enjoying this way too much.

When the sucking ended, Grantaire rolled a finger in one of the loops of Jehan's pants and pulled at them until he was straddling him on the couch. Jehan didn't resist, he simply positioned his hands on Grantaire’s chest, never breaking eye contact and smiling wickedly. He lowered his head and trapped Grantaire's earlobe between his lips, then ran them down his jaw until he found his neck.

He bit again a little harder and rolled his hips when he heard him gasp. This had turned into a competition, and Grantaire wouldn't sit there without putting up a fight; he tucked a hand inside Jehan's shirt, caressing his back and side, his hands cold on the hot skin. Jehan lifted his head again, but before he could say anything, Grantaire pulled him down for a kiss. Jehan opened his mouth easily for him and Grantaire bit at his lower lip, bruising it. After that, Grantaire forgot everything about the girl at work. The only thing he cared about now was Jehan's mouth on his and the feeling of his long legs around him.

Tentatively, he slid his hand between them, brushing his fingertips on Jehan's crotch; the smaller man gasped and he smiled at discovering he was getting hard as well. Jehan thrust up into his hand a few times then helped him out of his shirt, licking one of his nipples and rolling it between his teeth as soon as he had access to them. Grantaire's breath hitched, his clumsy fingers undoing Jehan's pants.

"Take them off. Jehan, take them off," he grunted. His voice was needy, but he couldn't find in himself to care.

Jehan tried to pull his jeans down along with his boxers, but he whined when it was obvious he'd have to stand up to fully freeing himself of them. Jehan pulled away from him, kicking the jeans away, and fell on his knees, quickly undoing Grantaire's buttons, who lifted his hips for him and pushed them down around his thighs; Jehan didn't wait, taking his dick into his mouth and sucking at the tip. Grantaire stifled a cry of surprise and tangled his fingers on the hair of Jehan's nape, looking for leverage, at the time Jehan swallowed him down completely, twirling his tongue with expert ease and cupping his balls with a hand.

"Ah- Jehan, wait, come here. Co- come here."

Jehan smiled around his cock, moving his head away with a wet pop, and straddled him again, moaning when Grantaire squeezed his ass to bring him closer, rubbing him with his own hardness. Jehan kissed him again, grinding down against him, sending little puffs of hot air into Grantaire's ear when they broke apart. Grantaire wrapped a hand around both their erections and bumped steadily, swallowing Jehan's moans in every kiss. The movement of his hand speeded up, each stroke slick with precum, and he couldn't stop himself from digging his nails in Jehan's hip bone. When he rubbed the tip with his thumb, Jehan hide his face in Grantaire's neck, holding tight on his shoulders and, after a shudder that ran down his body, he came on Grantaire's hand. It didn't took long before Grantaire followed, biting Jehan's neck and tangling his other hand in the long hair.

They stayed like that for a minute, trying to catch the breath back. Jehan kissed him behind the ear and shift on his lap to look at him in the eyes.

"I'm sure she'll believe it now."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo-hoo! Longer chapter! I hope this makes it up for the wait.
> 
>  ** _cw:_** mentions of past alcoholism and past child abuse.

Joly called the following week. His shifts at the hospital had kept him busy since Grantaire had moved out, meaning he had not really seen him in about two months. They'd met in a few occasions, but had barely talked; it was time to fix that, so Grantaire was officially invited for dinner with him, Bossuet and Musichetta. For a brief second, Grantaire thought of inviting Jehan as well, until he remembered that no, they weren't dating or anything, he didn't have to introduce him to his friends.

Joly opened the door with a big smile and wrapped him in a tight hug. Bossuet was setting the plates on the table, almost knocking down one of the glasses when he turned to greet Grantaire. Musichetta came out of the kitchen and kissed him on the cheek, a big bowl of salad still between her arms.

"Is that new?" she asked, pinching between her index finger and thumb the sleeve of the hoodie he was wearing.

"Nope. It was buried inside my closet." The girl cocked an eyebrow. "I can’t find my jacket, had to improvise."

"How's the new apartment?" Joly asked once they were sitting at the table. "Any pretty lady around?"

"It's fine and no." They already knew he'd painted it and all, so there wasn't exiting news to tell. As for "any pretty lady around", he didn't know how to tell them he was busy with other… things.

"Man, you need to go out, meet people, get laid-"

"I fucked my neighbor", he blurted out between Bossuet's sentence. He could feel three pair of eyes staring at him, but he kept his head bowed, finding his plate incredibly interesting all of a sudden.

"What neighbor?" Musichetta asked.

"Jehan."

"The one that helped you with the apartment?"

"Yeah…"

"How- When- Wait, fuck-fuck or…?"

"Well… does a handjob count as fuck-fuck?" he asked, honestly intrigued, but his friends only exchanged a look without providing an answer, so he kept talking. "It happened last week; it started as a joke and everything went down from there."

"So, are you guys like… together now?" Bossuet chimed in, forgetting his food.

"No! I mean… It was… unplanned. It’s not like it's gonna happen again, right?"

"No, of course not."

"How did he take it?" Musichetta inquired, placing a hand on top of his. "Did you guys talk about it?"

"Not exactly… I mean, we didn't talk then and I haven't seen him since. But he's really chill about it, I think? I'm sure we're both cool with it."

"That's great. He seems like a good boy."

"He is."

No one said a word in a long while. For some reason, Bossuet was smirking at him, as if he knew something Grantaire ignored, but at least that was better than the worried look Musichetta was throwing his way. He cleared his throat, moving a pea around his plate with the fork, retrieving his hand slowly away of the girl's firm grip.

"Okaaaay," Joly stretched out. "Enough of Grantaire's sex life, the food is getting cold."

The young doctor offered him the bowl of salad as he talked about one of his patients. Grantaire thanked the change of topic and tried to enjoy the rest of the evening; neither of them brought up the incident with Jehan again, and that was enough to keep Grantaire relaxed while they all ate the dessert.

 

***

 

Back at his apartment, Grantaire felt restless. He'd quit drinking almost a year ago, but sometimes he still felt that pull inside his belly when something was messing up with him. He paced around his small apartment for a while, looking around for something to distract himself; he drew his old sketchbook out of a drawer, but his hands were trembling a little, making it impossible to put something in the paper. Finally, he gave up and flopped on the couch as he fished his cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans.

He stared at Jehan's number, thinking what would it be best to write. It was true Jehan hadn't complained about their encounter, but that didn't mean things were okay. Sending him a message could be risky if Jehan wasn't at all "that cool with it" as he'd previously assured. Grantaire looked around him, as if waiting for someone to tell him what to do; after long ten minutes, he finally typed a quick message for the young man.

_> hey, duck. are you home?_

He read it a few times before pressing the "Send" button, waiting a bit nervous for a reply. They'd sent each other some casual message over the week, but nothing meaningful; they'd been busy, meaning the answers weren't immediately, that was why he jolted in the couch when his phone vibrated in his hand barely a minute after. He opened the message and couldn't restrain a smile.

_> I am. Watching t.v. You? How was the meal with your friends?_

_> bored and it was ok. wanna come over and watch a movie?_

_> Sure. Should I bring one of mine or are we gonna watch Jurassic Park /again/?_

_> bring one. and shut up, you like jurassic park._

Jehan hugged him as soon as he opened the door for him and held the movie he'd brought with him in front of Grantaire's eyes. He let him arrange the couch with pillows and a blanket while he made some popcorn, and soon they were all settled on the living room for a movie night. Jehan thrown the blanket over their legs, sitting really close to Grantaire so they could share it without a problem. Grantaire pressed play, leaning on the backrest.

The movie was… different. Different as in old and black & white. Not really what he liked, but he'd tortured Jehan with dinosaurs enough; it was his turn to watch something he actually enjoyed. But Grantaire couldn't restrain his yawning after the first hour and had to blink rapidly to prevent his eyes from fluttering shut; he was falling asleep right there.

Jehan chuckled next to him. "You're the worst, I can't believe you're falling asleep!"

"I'm sorry, this is really not my thing…"

The young man rolled his eyes still smiling, threw his side of the blanket over Grantaire, and walked to the pile of DVD's next to the T.V. He picked one and, after taking out the one they were watching, put it in the DVD player. It was Jurassic Park and Grantaire actually felt bad for ruining Jehan's fun as he watched him coming back to the couch and resuming his place next to him, arranging the blanket back over his legs.

"This will keep you awake," he said, nudging at his side. Grantaire laughed at loud, secretly enjoying the fact that they were now watching his favorite movie.

Jehan rested his head over Grantaire’s shoulder and the memory of what they'd done came back to him with a vengeance. He couldn’t understand why Jehan was that calm after everything that had happened, it wasn't just… anything. Or maybe it was normal and perfectly acceptable that two male friends jack off together and he was just overreacting. He didn't know, he'd never done it before, he wasn't at all that kind of close to his other friends.

Jehan, who must've felt how tense he was, lifted his head again. "Are you okay?"

Grantaire nodded, but his traitorous eyes traveled down to Jehan’s lips on their own accord, giving away exactly what he was thinking. Before he could get second thoughts, he leaned in and kissed Jehan a little bit clumsily. He needed to know where they were standing and apparently to his brain, this had been the best way to do it; quick and dirty… sort of. Needless to say, it caught him by surprise when Jehan, instead of pushing him away, threw his arms around his neck, kissing him back eagerly.

Before any of them could register what was happening, Jehan pushed him backwards until his back was touching the couch, lying completely on one of the pillows with Jehan sitting on his thighs. They broke apart and Jehan let out a content sigh; he was smiling, his eyes firmly closed and chest moving up and down with every breath he took. Grantaire waited for his next move, not sure if he was deciding the best way to kick him out of his own apartment or if he was actually considering to take this to the next level. When Jehan ran a finger down his jaw, kissing him again, this time rolling his hips to rub himself against Grantaire, he knew it'd been option two all along.

"Bed. Please?" he gasped when the friction was making them both moan into the other's mouth, meeting each of Jehan's thrusts with the same enthusiasm.

Jehan nodded and stood up, getting rid of his shirt and pulling Grantaire by the arm. They stumbled the entire way to the bedroom, trying to kiss, touch, undress, and walk at the same time; Jehan laughed at loud after falling flat on his ass in an attempt to take his jeans off. By the time they entered the bedroom, they were both down to their boxers. Grantaire lifted Jehan in his arms and climbed up on the bed with him. He snuck a hand inside Jehan's underwear and stroke him steadily, curling his fingers around the length of his dick.

"No, no. Fuck me." Jehan whispered against his lips.

"What?"

"Fuck me this time."

Grantaire supported his weight on his hands, looking down at the man under him. "Okay…" he said lamely and walked up to the bathroom to get what he needed.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror above the sink for a moment; his eyes were dark and misty, and his cheeks were tinted red. He retrieved the lube and a condom from the cabinet, taking his boxers off as he walked out of the door. He came back to the room and climbed on the bed next to Jehan, who was laying on his belly completely naked, rolling his hips lightly to rub himself against the bed sheets. Grantaire knelt behind him, running a hand down Jehan's back, quivering under his touch.

"I'm here," he stuttered and spread Jehan's legs open, positioning his body between them. He opened the lube and poured some in his hand as he kissed Jehan's neck from behind, encouraging him to lift his hips for him. He ran a slick finger down the line between Jehan's ass cheeks, his open palm pressing against the young man's back to pin him down on the mattress, and pushed it inside him.

Jehan moaned loudly, arching his back as best as he could under Grantaire's pressure, and tried to fuck himself back on the finger. Grantaire added a second one and a third soon after, enjoying the sounds that poured out of Jehan's mouth, feeling his own cock pulsing between his legs with anticipation. Jehan was clenching around his fingers, asking for more, and Grantaire wouldn't say no.

He pulled his fingers out and rolled the condom down. "Grantaire?" Jehan asked, looking over his shoulder. "Please," he whined, and Grantaire couldn't suppress a snort, rubbing the head of his cock on Jehan, teasing at his entrance. The young man braced himself on his hands and knees, trying to push back.

"You really can't wait, can you?"

Grantaire thrust forward, sinking down to hilt, pinning Jehan down on the bed once again. He was being rough, unable to hold himself back after a whole week thinking of all the "what if's"; Jehan wasn't complaining, on the contrary, he tried to reach behind him to hold Grantaire's thighs and pull him closer, deeper, as he writhed between the sheets. Grantaire pounded into him, his hands leaving fingerprints on Jehan's waist. The young man was hot and tight around him and Grantaire grunted before he leaned forward to kiss the back of his neck, thrusting deeper as the new angle allowed him to hit his prostate.

"Har- harder." Jehan moaned, wrapping a hand around himself and matching Grantaire's hips. "I can take it. Harder. Please."

Grantaire fucked into him some more and came, burying himself deep inside Jehan. He clenched around his softening cock still inside him, increasing the pace of his hand until his own orgasm hit him, flopping down on the bed with Grantaire's body on top of him.

 

Jehan kissed him on the lips before leaving his apartment an hour later. Grantaire saw Madame Simplice standing outside her door, wearing a wicked grin that made the hair of Grantaire's nape to prickle; he smiled politely, shutting the door behind him before she could say anything at all.

 

***

 

They fucked regularly after that. On the table of Jehan's apartment, the kitchen counter at Grantaire's, both their beds and couches… and Grantaire simply gave up on trying to justify it; he liked it, Jehan liked it, what else was there to explain? He didn't bring up the subject again when he went to visit his friends, though. After he told them about the movie night that had ended with them orgasming on his bed, Musichetta had scolded him harshly - which was entirely unfair to be honest, since she never before had had a problem with his multiple hook-ups.

"This is different," she'd said, "things are going to blow in your face."

She was overreacting, of course, they were still really good friends.

Jehan seemed incapable of not texting him during the day. Every few hours, Grantaire's phone would ring with a new message from the small man or photos of random dogs and cats he found on the street; he even texted him poetry sometimes, when he was feeling particularly inspired, even when he'd never say where he'd gotten them from, no matter how many times Grantaire would ask. And every Friday, they had dinner together. Always in one of their apartments and Grantaire was the one who cooked. They would sit together on the couch, watching T.V. or listening to music while Jehan stole food from Grantaire's plate.

So yeah, Musichetta was definitely exaggerating. They were friends, very good friends, and having your friend riding your hard cock was something particularly good friends did.

Grantaire grunted lowly, his hands tight on Jehan's hips as he pulled him down on his dick, thrusting up with abandon. Jehan howled above him and tangled his fingers on Grantaire’s hair before he came hot on his belly. Grantaire followed soon, driving his thrusts deeper inside Jehan. After a few minutes in which they both caught their breath back, the young man lifted himself off of Grantaire and curled around him on the bed, kissing his pulse point.

"I'm gonna be sore tomorrow" he whispered, nuzzling at his neck.

Grantaire snorted, running his hands along Jehan’s hair. He looked down at him, smiling faintly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Hmm-hmm."

"I… Uh…" Grantaire was aware he needed to have the conversation with Jehan, because one thing was what he himself thought it was going on between them, and other entirely different what Jehan wanted. He cleared his throat, trying to gain some guts. "… Cats or dogs?" he said stupidly, rolling his eyes at himself. That was not what he wanted to ask. Well, he'd have to go with it now.

He saw Jehan frowning, undoubtedly confused by the question, but he answered anyway, his breathing still a bit erratic from their previous activity. "Dogs."

"... Really? I thought you more of a cat person."

"I like cats, but I've only had a pet in my life and it was a dog. He gave me this, by the way", he pointed at a small scar on his cheek bone. Grantaire waved a hand, prompting him to continue the story; Jehan laughed. "His name was Porkchop, the tiny fox terrier. I had him since he was a puppy, we found him on the street alone and starved. I think he was convinced I was his brother and not his owner ‘cause he alway stole my toys. Once I tried to get one back and when I knelt to take it, he jumped on me and bit my face."

"Oh my God."

"Yeah... I didn't need stitches or anything, so it wasn't that bad. My mom wanted to give him away but I didn't let her…" Jehan shifted between his arms and the slim arm around his waist held him more tightly. "I really loved that dog. I’m an only child, you know?, he was the only one I have. He was my best friend…"

"What happened to him?"

"What happens to all dogs." He shrugged. "He grew old, got sick and the vet couldn't do anything to help him. They put him to sleep."

Grantaire didn't know what to say. He hugged Jehan more firmly and kissed his cheek over the small scar and then his lips. Jehan rested a hand on the nape of his neck, playing with the curls there, and brought him closer, nipping at his bottom lip. When they broke apart, he snuggled closer.

"Tell me something about you, now."

"Hmmm… I’m ambidextrous."

"No shit."

"Shit. Well, I’m left-handed but I learned to use both hands."

"That’s convenient, now I'm interested", he said with a sultry smile. "How did you learn that?"

"I lived with my grandma since I was three and during five years, she became my personal nightmare." Grantaire worried at his lower lip. He hadn't said that story to anyone, not even Éponine, but he felt safe there, with Jehan; it was easy to talk to him and he didn't have to think twice what he’d say next. "You know those old people who think left-handed are some sort of incarnation of Lucifer and shit?" he asked.

Jehan moved until he was resting fully on top of Grantaire so he could watch his face as he listened. "Sure, they're horrible people if you ask me."

"Yeah, well. She was like that. And when I learned to eat by myself, she saw me using my left hand. She got so mad, and from that day forward she tied my hand to the back of my chair and forced me to eat with my right hand."

"How could she?!"

"Yeah, but I still used the other hand when she wasn't watching. That’s how I learned."

"That’s actually a pretty interesting talent."

"Oh, I’ve got many talents, sir. I’m not sure you can handle them."

He turned them around until Jehan was trapped under him. He tickled him, biting the lobe of his ear at the same time and Jehan was giggling, giggling. Grantaire had never heard anyone who actually giggled.

It was a beautiful sound.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps I’ll add another chapter, but I’m not sure yet. Either way, be ready for the end :3

Since Grantaire could remember, he'd never lived alone, until the past few months. He used to share a small apartment with Joly and Bossuet, but after Musichetta moved out there, that'd become a little bit crowded for the four of them. They had insisted there was no need for Grantaire to find somewhere else to live, but it was him the one that felt out place; some time later, he was settling his stuff in the new apartment. The place looked amazing and it had started to feel like home after Jehan helped him to hang on a few pictures on the walls. Grantaire loved the privacy it provided, but sometimes he felt trapped and claustrophobic, especially in the bad days.

It was one of those days; his hands were shaking so badly, desperate for a drink, that it’d taken all his concentration to fit the key into the lock of the front door. When he finally managed to open it, he ran a hand through his dark hair, making his curls messier, and bit at his bottom lip insistently, still outside the apartment. Footsteps drew his attention to the staircase and he saw Jehan coming down; the young man frowned as soon as he saw him standing motionless in the middle of the hallway.

"You okay?" he asked, stopping on the last step.

"Yeah, uhm. Just… It's nothing. Don't worry, I'm fine," he assured with a fake smile. Jehan was still watching him and he hesitated to go inside his apartment. He turned to face Jehan, his eyes cast down. "You, uhm… Were you heading somewhere? Because I thought… I don’t know, maybe I could stay with you for a while? Just hanging out, you know? I thought… it'd be fun."

Jehan smiled and beckoned him to come closer. "That'd be awesome, come here", he took his hand gently, kissed him on the lips, and pulled him up the stairs in silence.

At Jehan's place, Grantaire shrugged his hoodie off and made himself comfortable on the couch, while Jehan put his bag back at the coat rack close to the door. He noticed the jacket, _his_ jacket, hanging next to the bag and smiled sideways; so that was why he couldn't find it. He decided to follow Jehan to the kitchen, watching him from the hallway, his head resting on a column.

"Where were you going?" he asked, trying to sound casual and not scared how he really felt for no apparent reason.

"I was planning to surprise Bahorel." Jehan leaned against the kitchen counter, smiling. Grantaire felt a wave of sudden anxiety.

"Oh, shit. Go with him! Honestly, I'll be fine. I shouldn't have asked you for this, I'm so sorry-"

"It's okay! Please, Grantaire, don't worry about it. Actually, I'm sure you'll appreciate my company a lot more than he would do it", he added with a chuckle, pouring hot water in two big mugs. He looked at him over his shoulder as he held the mugs in his hands. "Want to come with me to the bedroom? We'll be comfy there."

Grantaire nodded, walking silently behind him. He sat on the bed, noticing something he hadn't seen on the times he’d been there: a couple of small notebooks on the bedside table. Grantaire opened the one on top carefully and raised his eyebrows at seeing what was inside. It was poetry, handwritten poetry, to be exact, scribbled in cursive with a purple ball pen. He knew it was wrong, but couldn't help reading the first page, tilting his head and tracing the surface with a single finger.

"Would you like to hear some poetry?" Jehan asked behind him, a lot closer than Grantaire had expected, causing him to startle.

"Sorry, sorry. Shouldn't do that."

Jehan stretched a hand past him and took the notebook. He sat down on the bed and tilted his head to the spot beside him with a smile. Grantaire crawled closer and lay down on the pillow, but Jehan made a negative sound, tapping his own lap. Grantaire complied, resting his head on the other man. Jehan opened the notebook and started reading softly, running his fingers through Grantaire’s black curls, caressing his scalp and massaging his temples.

The poems were beautiful, he even recognized a few fragments from those Jehan texted him sometimes, and by the time Jehan reached the middle of the notebook, Grantaire felt a lot calmer. "D'you write those?" he asked.

"Yes, did you like 'em?"

"A lot, you're good."

Jehan bent over him, peppering his forehead with little kisses. "Thank you. How you feel?"

"Better. I should go now. Maybe you still can go with your friend."

"It's okay. Do you want to spend the night here?"

Grantaire remained silent for a second and nodded. Jehan let him cuddle around him, nesting his head in the junction between his neck and shoulder. It was the first time they slept together just for the sake of it and Grantaire discovered, astonished, that he liked it maybe even more than the sex. He felt safe in there and somehow at peace to the point where he didnt need to cry or jerk himself off to feel tired and find sleep, like he used to do when he was alone. There was something about Jehan’s sole presence that soothed him enough to have him fully relaxed within seconds. Before he drifted into slumber, he felt warm lips kissing the top of his head.

 

The next morning, Grantaire woke up to an empty bed. He looked around him, disoriented until he recognized the place, and then flopped down on the pillow, shielding his eyes with an arm; he had a headache, but it was lesser than he'd expected so he finally got up and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he was ready, he headed to the other room to look for Jehan. He found him in the kitchen. The poet was reheating leftovers in the microwave as he whistled a song. He turned around when he heard Grantaire entering the kitchen, kissed the tip of his own fingers and then pressed them on Grantaire's lips.

"Good morning", he welcomed him.

"Thanks for yesterday."

"No need to thank me," he assured, kissing his lips this time.

"It’s so early, why are you even awake?" Grantaire asked, pouring some coffe into his mug and taking a place at the table.

"I have to go in an hour."

"What? Why? Oh, don’t tell me. Bahorel is mad, isn't he?"

Jehan laughed, handing him a plate with pasta. "No. Enjolras needs my help with something."

Enjolras, the fearless leader of the activist group that Jehan was part of and of which Grantaire was honestly kinda interested in attend to. He'd heard plenty of it and its members, but the man in question was definitely out of this world and Grantaire would love to meet him in person; he seemed like someone that Grantaire could piss off quite easily and that was something he wouldn't miss given the chance. But at the moment, the only thing the artist had registered of Jehan's sentence was that he had to go. Soon. Less than an hour.

"No, don't go," he pleaded, pulling his lower lip out in a pitying pout.

"I'm sorry, I have to."

"Please."

Jehan walked around the table and straddled him on the chair, kissing his nose sweetly. “Don’t look at me like that. You're like a puppy left in the rain.”

"Don't go", Grantaire whined pathetically as he brushed Jehan's neck with his nose and lips, causing him to shiver.

"I have to. Enjolras needs my help, he has this important speech he wants me to check for him."

"No, he doesn't." Grantaire assured him, skimming a hand down under the waistband of Jehan's boxers. It'd been enough of the weird domestic routine; they were fuck buddies, nothing else. They were friends, yes, but they primarily fucked, that was all.

The poet yelped in surprise when his hand traced down his skin, dangerously close to his entrance. "I really, really have to go", he breathed out, closing his eyes and biting the lobe of Grantaire's ear.

"You sure?" Grantaire kissed his collarbone, the rough tip of his finger rubbing gently at Jehan's hole. "Can't stay a little longer?"

Jehan moaned and pulled at Grantaire's hair to trap his mouth in a heated kiss. "I think I can stay a few more minutes", he said against his lips. "But if he kills me, I'll come back from the dead to drag your ass down with me."

"I'll take the risk." Grantaire grinned as he was dragged back to the bedroom.

 

***

 

Grantaire contemplated Jehan's face in the darkness, the soft lines of his young face highlighted under the silver glow that came in through the window. He looked so calm and content, and Grantaire was grateful he was allowed such view. It didn't matter how it had started, he was fortunate to have Jehan in his life and that he let him see this vulnerable side every time they shared a -metaphorical- bed.

For some reason, it was always him fucking Jehan. The poet had tried to top once, but it didn't go well. He had to admit later - with the most adorable bright red spots Grantaire had seen tinting his cheeks - that he'd liked it better when it was Grantaire the one fucking into him. He couldn't complain, really; he had grown fond of the tight heat around him, too, but beyond all, he was overwhelmed by what Jehan's words meant. He trusted him, he'd said so himself, and it was a lot more than Grantaire knew he deserved.

Jehan's fingertips brushed Grantaire's hand and a stray thought crossed the artist’s mind, a reminiscent of a dream he'd had nights ago. It was about them; he and Jehan walking down the street, holding hands. He knew very well the touch of those hands on his skin, but had never experienced the thrill of holding them between his own. He didn't know Jehan's favorite color or if he enjoyed Christmas. There were loads of things he didn't know about the man resting beside him and Grantaire felt he needed to fix that, even if that broke every and all of his self-imposed rules.

"Stop staring at me, you creep." Jehan mumbled, rubbing his face on the pillow before opening his eyes.

Grantaire smiled fondly. "You're staying the night?"

"Sure."

"Come here." He prompted him to lie on top of him, tracing the small of his back with a finger. He could get used to it; he was afraid he'd already done it.

 

Grantaire woke up when the sun was way up high, the blinding light coming in throughout the curtains Grantaire forgot to close the night before. He look out of the window for a while; he felt calm, at home, with Jehan's breath ghosting behind his ear. His long hair was spread over the pillow and Grantaire followed the strawberry blond river until his eyes caught a small note he'd pinned to the lampshade of his bedside lamp almost a week ago. He narrowed his eyes, trying to read what he'd written on it and almost jumped out of the bed when he finally deciphered it.

"Oh, fuck!" he shouted startling Jehan, who had been asleep until that moment. "I forgot Bossuet's birthday party!"

"What? When?" he asked, eyes barely open, heavy with sleep.

"Today!"

"Today? When? Now?!"

"Yes! Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm so late." He ran around the apartment, gathering clothes and fishing his phone from under the couch. Jehan was standing in the middle of the hallway, following his steps as he yawned behind his hand. Grantaire stopped in front of him and frowned. "Do you… wanna come?"

Jehan's eyes widened. "Really?" Grantaire shrugged and he nodded sheepishly. "I'd love to."

"It'll be fun, I promise. Now come on, there's no time for separate showers!" he laughed, gripping Jehan’s arm and pulling him to the bathroom.  
  


"You're late," Musichetta huffed when she opened the door. She looked beautiful, the strand of pink hair particularly bright that night between her dark brown curls; Grantaire tried to ease the tension complimenting her appearance, but she only rolled her eyes, still blocking the apartment door. "What's your excuse?"

"I sort of forgot about it…" he mumbled honestly - he'd learned the hard way it was always better when it came down to Musichetta- and was that Jehan snorting beside him? "But I brought a friend! And he brought a present with him!"

Jehan stretched his arms with a wide smile, offering the small package he'd put together while Grantaire got dressed; Grantaire thought he was actually trying not to laugh at him instead of pretending to be nice in front of his friend. "Hi, I'm Jean, Jean Prouvaire, Grantaire's neighbor."

Musichetta cocked her head, eyes suddenly stopping on Jehan's clothes, and Grantaire tensed up. Jehan was wearing one of his smaller t-shirts under the bright purple sweater he’d put on the night before, but he thought she wouldn't recognize it; he'd been mistaken, as always. Musichetta smiled faintly before smacking the back of Grantaire's head not so playfully, stepping aside to let them in. "Nice to meet you, Jean. I'm Musichetta."

Inside, Grantaire introduced Jehan to the rest of his friends. First Joly and Bossuet, who crunched the poet in a sandwich hug after the birthday boy accepted his gift; then Éponine and Marius. The girl let Jehan wave a hand at the freckled man before approaching him with a threatening smile.

"So, you're Jean, the poet." she said.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hmmm. I'm Éponine, Grantaire's best friend."

"Are you really?" Grantaire asked in a whisper, just to piss her off; he deserved the glare he got in return.

"You know?" she said. "Your name sounds familiar; do I know you from somewhere?"

"I don't think so, I'll remember you."

Jehan fit in the group almost instantly. Grantaire's friends were honestly interested in him; they asked him about the poetry and the art gallery he worked at. Jehan answered every question with a smile, offered to braid Musichetta's hair and gave a long summary of the books he’d given to Bossuet; after half an hour, even Éponine was talking joyfully with him. Grantaire was sitting next to him on the couch, watching him giggle at Marius, who was talking about a girl he’d met in the park. Joly winked an eye at him when Jehan rested a hand on his knee and Grantaire, contrary to every expectation, smirked. They went back home together and fell asleep on the couch, with their legs and arms wrapped around each other.

 

***

 

"Here. Make sure to share it with your gorgeous boyfriend. I think it could work as an anniversary gift, don't you think?"

Madam Simplice had stopped Grantaire in the hallway before he could run away inside the apartment. He thought that maybe she’d complain about the noise coming from his place all the time, but instead, the old lady was giving him a home-made pumpkin pie with the instructions of sharing it with… his boyfriend, she'd said? What the hell?

"My… boyfriend?" he asked, reluctantly accepting the dessert. "I don't know what you're talking about…"

"I'm talking about you and Jehan, of course! How long have you both been dating, dear?"

 _Fuck…_ "We're… we're not dating, actually."

"You're not? I thought… Since you both…" The poor woman seemed honestly disconcerted, but she recovered quickly, smiling again as she pushed the pie further into Grantaire's hands. "Oh, well. Don't mind me. Still share it with Jehan, would you? He's such a sweet boy. I'll see you soon, dear."

"Thanks, see ya…"

He closed the door behind him and sat on the floor with the pie still in his hands. This was bad. Really, really bad. He'd taken everything too far and now it was out of his hands. He couldn't let people to think he was dating Jehan; someone so sweet, so… so gentle deserved something better. He wondered what would Jehan think of it if he found out; he'd probably be furious. Grantaire didn't know if the poet had a reputation to protect, but even if he did not, the least he needed was to be related to such a disgrace like him. He didn't even know if Jehan was... out of the closet to begin with.

Maybe he could fix it before it was too late. The only thing he had to do was going back to what they were before he fucked everything up. To be exclusively friendly neighbors. He just had to find a way to tell Jehan that the thing between them was over. It was for Jehan's own good, so he'll do it. Even if it meant to lose his friendship.


End file.
